House of Cards (Sequel to Kerosene)

Prologue~ The Interrogation

President Marcus Syrio Georgios Ravenstill-King stood at the window, only as still and serious as he needed to be. A little smile crept across his lips at the thought of seeing the girl herself, the rebel's daughter. Oh, what a wonderful talk they'd have, just the two of them.

King had complete power over the entire country, over every living thing within these borders. "President King" was a title that suited him well. He certainly had more power than that stone-faced imbecile Coriolanus Snow. But this woman? She may as well dance in the palm of his hand, arms reach from imprisonment.

He straightened his deep red bow tie, turned to face the door to his office. It was terribly rude to keep a guest waiting.

Maria jumped when the door clicked open, then quickly regained her composure. The president's long, elegant strides came to a stop when he was in front of her, the cherry wood desk between them.

"You must know why I wanted to speak to you, dear," he said. His tone was a gentle one that he might've used when speaking to a granddaughter. But Marcus King was nowhere near old enough to have one, so a niece might be more fitting. There was a tinge of venom behind it though, and Maria had to resist the urge to draw back.

"No, sir, I don't."

"Oh, no trouble then, no trouble at all." The President said lightly. He didn't have the grating Capitol upspeak Maria used in public, every syllable was smooth and enunciated, every word delivered through an unnervingly white smile. "I'll see to it that you're up to date."

Maria was silent. From the moment she'd received the message summoning her to the president's office, she'd resolved to use as few words as possible, but that minimum was higher than she would have liked. For now, though, the floor was all his.

"As you know, the 86th Hunger Games ended when three valiant young tributes drowned in a suicide pact." He made the word 'valiant' sound more like an epithet than a commendation, but if one wasn't listening as carefully- fearfully- as Maria had been, the difference was nearly undetectable.

Maria nodded slowly. The look in King's eyes told her she was expected to say something. "Yes, it was very brave of them," she nodded again, mentally kicking herself for the feeble response.

The smile vanished from King's face, in its stead, his brow creased in a look of well-feigned concern. "The bodies," he said, just above a whisper. "Are nowhere to be found."

"Oh?"

He continued, eyes never leaving hers. "Of course, you are one of very few people to know. The games are a very public spectacle, yes, but we do not strip our tributes of all dignity, especially in death. The families have ashes, believe their children were cremated, courtesy of the gamemakers. We couldn't be so cruel as to hand over mangled, drowned bodies, could we?"

He smiled again, as if a great joke was underway. "What's most fascinating, my dear, is that one of the mentors has gone missing as well."

"Missing?" Maria said. She faked poorly hidden indifference to hide the fear that kept her all but frozen in place. The shock burned like ice on bare skin, and she ached to move, to pace, to do something with her hands, anything but just sit there and let the information sink in. How on earth-? "Really," she added flatly.

"Yes," King raised an eyebrow. Maria straightened under his gaze, tried not to squirm, though it was clear that he saw right through it. "I thought you deserved to know, and that I should be the one to deliver this... tragic.. news."

"I don't—"

"It would only be right," He interrupted, rescuing Maria from the half-formulated question that she wasn't even sure she could safely ask. "As you've undoubtedly been sick with worry about your dear friend, the victor. Where has he been these past months? And so close to the impending victory tour..."